Chapter Nine – Clues and Discussions

Jack Lane's head was spinning as he carefully made his way to his bedroom. He'd had too much to drink again. Out of his stupor he could hear voices from his past. His mother admonishing him, his brother getting into an accident, his brother's wife dying, his nephew dying. Images of various events swirled around in his mind, mostly tragic memories surfaced. He heard choppers in the background, heard commands over the radio and the staccato of gunfire.

Jack Lane had been a soldier a long time ago, before he'd tried his hands on goat farming. Despite everything he hadn't quite managed to catch up with his demons. Instead he'd only added more of them to his conscience until they were so many he couldn't handle them without taking a drink too many. These last events with his nephew had thrown him back and increased the bad dreams he usually had.

The police had come to his door and demanded to see him. They'd questioned him, and by all means they had every right to, but he was tired of being bullied by people in and out of uniform. He needed help, Jeremy had said so one day and the boy had no idea how right he'd been. However, no one seemed interested in helping him. He'd always had to manage on his own.

His musings and self-pity was cut short as he heard movement outside the door. They even wanted to bully him at night it seemed, not only the demons but the real people. Angrily he reached for the rifle that sat just inside the door, threw the door open, and startled the young woman who was about to knock.

"What do you want?!" He demanded.

She took it as a cue to leave and raised her hands in a gesture of surrender before carefully backing away from the door, turned on her heels and ran.

OOOOOO

Steve Crane jerked awake in the back of the waiting room, near the casualty section, at the General Hospital in Ashfordly. Tiredly he ran a hand through his hair, spotting a white clad man in the room with him. An orderly nodded politely at him with an apologetic look as he realized he'd awakened the young officer.

Steve smiled at him politely and watched him leave before getting up to stretch his sore muscles. As he did so he found the new Ashfordly Gazette laying neatly folded on the front row of waiting chairs. Curiously he walked over and froze as he saw the headline on the front page. "Attempted Murder at Ashfordly Estate."

Crane sighed wearily, he had hoped this day would start better than the day before but it seemed there was no such luck. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly seven in the morning. With a frown he walked up to a nearby nurse's station and rang the bell.

"Nurse," he said kindly. "I was wondering if you could find out if there is any news on the unknown man that was brought in yesterday evening. The doctor promised to come and talk to me as soon as the operation was complete," he explained.

The middle aged nurse nodded sternly at him. "I'll see what I can do constable," she promised as she began to sort through the files at the station.

"Officer," a man clad in a doctors' coat hollered from behind him, causing him to whirl around.

"I'm Doctor Barnes. Doctor Jacobs sent me down to get you," he explained. "I understand that you await news about the severely injured man that was brought in yesterday?"

Steve nodded.

The doctor nodded back. "He's been giving us some trouble and we nearly lost him during the operation while closing up an internal bleed. But, now it seems he's responding well to treatment. It could still be touch and go for a while and the next twenty four hours are critical," the doctor said seriously.

"I see," the young officer replied with a smirk. "At least he survived so far. That's more than Jeremy Watson did. Now that I know his condition I'll be back later to hear if there's any more news."

"Just call for Doctor Jacobs or Doctor Barnes and we'll update you," he promised.

OOOOOO

Phil Bellamy groaned and turned around in his bed trying to ignore the sharp knock on his apartment door. However, the caller was persistent and after a while he gave up and detangled himself from the sheets and got up, reaching for some clothes.

"There you are, Phillip," his grandmother said happily as he let her in. "You poor thing, you look tired even after a few hours of sleep."

He smiled politely at her as he gently removed her hand from his cheek. "I'm fine Granny," he said softly.

"I just had to come and see you before you headed off to work," she explained. "I've just had a word with Bertha, you know my friend from Aidensfield? We use to play bridge."

Phil's smile turned into a scowl at the mention of the name. "I know who she is," he replied.

"That horrible man, Jack Lane, he needs to be brought behind bars that much I'd tell you," she said.

'Jack Lane?' Phil mused carefully, wondering why that name sounded so familiar, then it struck him; he was the uncle of the deceased junior doctor.

"I'm sure your friend Bertha is just over exaggerating, Granny," he said carefully. "He's been having it rather tough lately."

The older Bellamy huffed. "Jean, the sweet young woman I told you about a while ago, that's moved in next to Bertha, came running home in the middle of the night claiming Mr. Lane had barged out on the porch with a rifle in hand and demanded she left him alone."

"Well, in all fairness; what did she do at his place late at night?" He asked.

"She wanted to offer him some help, they're interested in sheep farming and also she's practiced as a nurse abroad and been working late at the General for a while," she explained.

"I'm sure he meant no offence," Phil tried to smooth it over.

"Meant no offence," she echoed. "Phillip, didn't you hear what I just said? He threatened a sweet young girl whose only intention was to help."

Bellamy absentmindedly scratched the back of his head. Not sure what to say.

"After everything that's happened around here lately one might start to think he had something to do with the murder attempt last night," she finished.

"Ah," he began as he ushered her toward the door. "Speaking of that. I better head to the station. I don't want to upset Sergeant Merton with my late arrival."

OOOOOO

Sgt. Dennis Merton yawned tiredly as he pulled up outside the Aidensfield surgery.

"You look like I feel," Jenny quipped with a teasing smile as she leant over to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Thanks," he replied wearily.

She sobered a bit. "Listen, I know you can't say when you'll be home but please, Dennis, call me," Jenny urged him as she got out of the car.

He nodded, trying not to think about work already as he watched his wife slip through the gate and reach the front door. He wasn't looking forward to the day – not at all.

OOOOOO

DI Shiner paced the floor of the duty room trying to envision the scenario in in head as the phone on Alf's desk started to ring. As Ventress was standing in the kitchenette Shiner reached for the phone and spoke into it with his sternest voice, not appreciating the disturbance.

"DI Shiner, sir," a voice spoke up at the other end of the line. "DC Travis. I'm at the lab down in the basement at Ashfordly General and I have a match on the fingerprints on the unknown man brought in yesterday."

Shiner frowned in surprise as he sat down at the edge of the desk. "That was fast," he said.

"His name is Charlie Carter, sir. He resides in Liverpool usually. It would seem he's connected to Jeremy Watson in some way unknown to us yet," DC Travis filled in.

"Evidently," the DI returned sarcastically. "Have you made enquiries to the department back in Liverpool?"

"Yes, sir. Charlie Carter works at the Royal Hotel, down in Liverpool, as a clerk. However, the police have reason to believe he's involved in something more at the casino," the young DC explained.

"Sounds interesting," Shiner replied. "Good work Detective Constable, return to base and we'll continue our discussion on how to proceed."

OOOOOO

Joyce Jowett stomped into the village hall, her low heels clicking on the hard coated floor, sending an echo through the hollow corridors as she neared the room in which the council meeting was to be held. A chatter of voices filled her ears as she walked through the open door and headed for an unoccupied chair at the end of the large wooden table.

Oscar Blaketon looked at her from the other end of the table, a half smirk on his face told her he enjoyed her late entrance. However, she was determined not to give him the satisfaction of an apology for her late appearances, after all, she was only one minute late.

"Well, now that we all are gathered," Blaketon said, silencing the chatter amongst the other six members of the council. "Why don't we begin with the protocol from last month?"

Politically involved, Mr. Bradford, a man in his early sixties with a slim figure and quite good looks, easily extracted the protocol from his elegant briefcase. "I believe that most of what has been discussed earlier is being resolved one way or another," he said carefully as he eyed each member of the council.

"I concur with Mr. Bradford," Mrs. Adams spoke up from two chairs down the row and opposite Mrs. Jowett.

Joyce discreetly pursed her lips together, her eyes narrowing somewhat but she refrained from saying anything. Mrs. Adams was a smart woman, who, to Joyce's dismay, also was in mind as a candidate for the Head of the Councils right hand. She was a cunning woman, lean and tall with blonde hair that could charm the pants off of most politicians around the area.

Ever since Mr. Jowett, a man of importance in the local politics, had died Joyce's own status in the society had diminished to being only respected and not listened to. That alone was enough to ignite Joyce's ire.

"I believe our most dire concern is the recent murder upon Ashfordly Estate," Emile Nolan said leaning slightly toward Blaketon with a poignant look on his face. "I fear that Sergeant Merton has lost control of the situation."

Oscar Blaketon smirked unhappily as he cast an eye on the dark haired man in his early fifties sitting next to him. Emile Nolan was a man with the looks that for most part lacked the brains to come up with something useful. His place in the council was secured by his late father who had been a very influential man at the Royal Hospital.

"I'm not in agreement with your statement, Nolan," Blaketon returned coldly. There had been times when he and Merton hadn't seen eye to eye but he had come to respect the former CID member over the years. The Scottish sergeant was a man of no nonsense and he didn't meddle in things, didn't like to see through the fingers. "Inside information has told me a great deal and I hope it will be enough to wrap up the murder investigation real soon."

"Inside information," Nolan echoed sarcastically. "Of course you have, Blaketon. Once a copper always a copper. The second man found at the Ashfordly Estate makes it obvious the police can't keep up with the case. Should they have any clues as to what they're actually doing everything would have been wrapped up by now."

"To the point gentlemen," Mrs. Adams said, attempting to steer the conversation back on track before it got out of hand. "And the point is that all this negative prints about our village and the local area is bad publicity. We want to get people interested in Aidensfield, Pickering, Strensford…"

"I don't care about the other villages, or even our nearest town called Ashfordly," Mr. Booth said gruffly as he leaned forward in his chair next to Jowett. "I only care about Aidensfield."

Joyce crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at him. "That is exactly the kind of retrogressive talk that prevents any of the local business to flourish around here. The key is to work together," she said.

The fairly wealthy farmer, Mr. Booth, raised a questionable eyebrow to the woman next to him. "Really, Mrs. Jowett?" He asked mockingly. "Tell me, when this department representative from the railroad, or delegation, turns up here and see that our station is not at all as popular as it gave appearance too during the bus strike and the freight train incident, will you happily allow him, or them, to close down our station and go to Pickering for train ride?"

A chatter broke out among the members that was silenced by the Chairman's club only.

Oscar Blaketon let go of the club and turned his gaze around the table. "In order for us to actually get somewhere why don't we start with the possible railway station closure concerning Aidensfield and take it from there?" He suggested.

"I don't see how we can prevent our station from being closed down should the Inspector see it necessary?" Lucas Hammers, a retired doctor from Ashfordly General said as he spoke up for the first time.

"It cannot be allowed for the Inspector to view the Aidensfield station as unnecessary. It would be a disaster for the commerce in the area," Joyce argued.

"What would it take then?" Emile challenged. "A funding of a sort?"

"Maybe, you're on to something for a change, Nolan," Oscar said with a cunning smirk. "Lord Ashfordly is disgusted at the amount of bad publicity the Estate has got in the Gazette. An arrangement up there would be a good idea to smooth it over."

"Sounds like a good idea," Mrs. Adams concurred. "We need some good publicity for a change, after all this horribleness with the dead man and the uncertainty of the railway."

"I'll speak to Lord Ashfordly in the morning," Oscar said. "He's still a bit rattled by the ongoing investigation of the Watson case."

"I do hope, for everyone's sake, Blaketon, that you're right about the murder being cleared up," Nolan said, his voice carrying a sharp undertone that didn't sit well with the former police sergeant.

OOOOOO

To be continued

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